I Just Want You
by brokenbottleaurora
Summary: Harry Potter wears many hats- Lord Potter, wealthy young bachelor, hero to the people. But what about the man that is left when the hats come off? Does he not deserve the same happiness? His friends know that he does, and they're determined to see him get it.


It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

As far as Harry Potter was concerned, the universe could go screw itself.

Harry flung open the door to Number 12 Grimmauld Place and kicked off his boots with a pair of heavy thuds. Shucking his charcoal wool coat and hanging it on the coat tree, he called out, "Dobby!"

The little elf appeared, trying to tremble with excitement and smooth his uniform at the same time. "How was Master Harry's date?" he squeaked.

"Dreadful," Harry moaned, taking the cup of tea his friend proffered and flopping down onto the couch with him. "I swear, I don't think Tracey is even interested in me at all. I'm pretty sure she only agreed to this date to get her father off her back about finding a suitable match."

Dobby's ears drooped at the news. "Dobby is sad for Master Harry. Dobby had heard such nice things about Miss Davisy… Dobby had hoped she would make Master Harry happy."

Seeing his friend on the verge of tears, Harry began to backpedal. "She was very nice, Dobby! We just didn't have any chemistry, any kind of a spark or connection. It only seemed dreadful because we both knew that within the first ten minutes and still had to sit through dinner with Blaise and Ginny and try to pretend that we might be interested in each other. This is the last one, though. I'm so through listening to Ginny when she tells me she's got the 'perfect' date lined up for me. Just another wasted Friday night," he finished with a huff.

"Master Harry must not give up!" Dobby began impassionedly. "Master Harry deserves to be happy with someone that makes him happy, someone that loves him, someone that cares about him and-"

"That's just it, Dobby!" Harry interrupted. "I'm convinced that there is no woman left in the wizarding world that cares about me or wants to love _me_. They all love my money and only care about being the next Lady Potter or the wife of a war hero. And that kind of person could never make me happy."

Dobby stood his ground. "Then Master Harry must keep searching! Dobby is sure that there is a wonderful missy that is all of those things; Master Harry just has to keep looking for her. Who knows? The perfect missy may be just under Master Harry's nose," he declared with a poorly hidden smirk.

Harry shook his head. He knew just who Dobby was referring to, and, as they had discussed several times before, it was never going to happen.

Settling in, Harry quickly changed the subject and blissfully lost himself in Dobby's recollection of every moment of his industrious day and his plans for tomorrow, just as their tradition dictated. He was so focused on trying to relax that he failed to notice the little elf was a bit distracted, almost as if his mind were on a completely different plan.

Hermione stumbled into her office Monday morning and thanked Merlin for a good hangover potion. She couldn't remember why she kept subjecting herself to the Weasley Sunday brunches if all Molly was going to do was harp on her and Ron about getting back together. The two of them had decided very quickly after the final battle that, despite their explosive chemistry, that's all their romantic relationship could ever be- volatile, irritating, and unhappy.

In fact, in the four years that had passed, Ron had managed several healthy relationships with other witches, and Hermione was very happy for him in that regard. Her own love life was far less fruitful. After a year of nothing but horrid dates, Hermione chalked it up to bad taste in men and gave up on dating.

She was so caught up in her own thoughts that she almost missed the large bouquet of red tulips sitting on her desk. When she nearly knocked them off with her heavy bag, she blinked several times in confusion and then tore into the attached card.

 _Hermione,_

 _As gorgeous as these blooms may be, they have nothing on you, my dear. You are far more radiant than any flower, and your loveliness is only magnified by your brilliance and strength. I hope one day to speak these words face to face, but until then, let these blossoms be a symbol of my affection for you._

Hermione stared wide-eyed at the card for a moment before frantically flipping it over and looking for a name. Seeing none, she searched for a receipt, an invoice, a transaction notice, something left on her desk that could tell her who sent her this… this… this love letter.

Sinking back into her office chair, Hermione stared at the tulips- her favorite flower in her favorite color. It couldn't be a coincidence…

Before she had time to think any further, her secretary knocked on her door, letting her know she had five minutes until her first meeting. Hermione gathered the necessary files and marched toward the conference room, vowing to find out who was behind this declaration of… love?

Despite his resolution, Harry let himself be talked into yet another blind date courtesy of Ginny. She swore Mina would be different- she played professional Quidditch, so she made plenty of her own money, and love of the sport was something the two would immediately have in common.

He arrived home Wednesday night in an even worse mood than after his date with Tracey. Mina, with her played-up French accent, had been nearly impossible to understand, and she spent all night checking Harry out. Had it just been his face or body, Harry probably would have found it less offensive. But when they met at the restaurant, Mina looked first at Harry's watch, then his cufflinks, then his suit, _then_ his eyes. All through dinner she seemed more interested in how expensive his suit was or where all his vacation homes were located rather than what Harry considered the pros and cons of having an active Seeker or what he thought about the newest Firebolt model. Yet another woman after his money, not his heart.

Dobby met him at the door, and the elf quickly read the situation.

"Master Harry doesn't seem to have enjoyed his date," he deduced. "Does you want to talk about it?"

"That's okay, Dobby," Harry replied, waving him off. "You don't have to sit and listen to me complain about yet another woman."

The elf quirked an eyebrow. "Yous always say that you is not my master- you is my friend. And Dobby thinks that it would be good for Master Harry to sit down and talk to his friend about his bad day."

It was hard to argue with that logic, Harry mused. "All right, but we're going to need snacks, tea, and maybe something a little stronger," he instructed.

Dobby snapped his fingers, and silver tray bearing all the necessary items appeared in his hand. "Right this way, Master Harry. Tell Dobby all about your lady troubles."

Harry followed his smallest friend into the living room, and from behind he couldn't see the elf's smug grin.

Hermione looked forward to her Friday lunches with Harry more than any other part of her week. They were both very busy people- her leading the charge for equality in the DRCMC, him working to get her legislation passed in the Wizengamot - so they had to work hard to schedule time with each other outside of work. But Friday lunches were nothing short of sacred.

She had just placed their regular orders at the Leaky Cauldron when Harry plopped down across from her in the booth.

"Harry, are you not sleeping well? You look exhausted!" she cried.

He chuckled at her predictable concern. "Thanks, Mione, I know I look like shit. I've just got a lot going on, and on top of it all, Ginny sent me on a really terrible date a couple nights ago. You know how that messes with me."

Hermione nodded. She _did_ know because she was historically the friend that pulled him out of the self-pitying, bad-date rut with a good pep talk and a swift kick in the rear. "Would it help to tell me about it?"

Most of lunch was spent with Harry gesticulating wildly as he raged against Mina's transparent gold-digging. After he ran out of steam, he told her a bit about the failure with Tracey, and he repeated his promise to swear off women and dating.

"I call bull crap, Harry Potter," Hermione teased as they walked out the door and back toward the apparition point. "Say what you will, but you are a hopeless romantic. You'll never give up on dating because you'll refuse to give up on the idea of romance and chivalry and love." Seeing him roll his eyes and try not to blush, Hermione grinned in triumph. "Face it, buddy, I've got your number."

Stopping at the apparition point, Harry pulled her in for a quick hug. "You're right, as usual, Mione," he said with a long suffering sigh. "No one knows me better than you. But then again, no one knows you better than me." He dropped a light kiss into her hair and quickly Apparated back to his office.

Hermione's feet had just touched her office floor when Harry's words hit her: _no one_ knew her better than him.

No one else would know her favorite flower. No one else would be able to write her a love letter that complimented her looks _and_ her mind so seamlessly. No one else had the sense of romance required to leave secret messages in a beautiful present that way.

The flowers could only have been from Harry.

Dear Merlin. The best friend she'd always been in love with might actually be in love with her too.

Few people in the world were aware that, when it came to his loved ones, Harry Potter was a complete pushover. Ginny Zabini was not only aware of it; she had no trouble exploiting it. All it took was one look in those puppy dog eyes and a promise from her that this girl was different, and Harry found himself going on yet another date.

Dobby was suspiciously prepared for Harry's early return from his date.

"Did Master Harry have a nice time?" the little elf asked sweetly.

Harry heaved a sigh and sank into his favorite chair. "It was yet another disaster. We went to a swanky bar for a couple of drinks- I'm not getting roped into a full meal again, especially on a Friday- and we ran into some of Daphne's friends from France. Rather than introducing me and helping me get to know them as people, she spent over an hour talking politics and telling me how wonderful it would be for me as Lord Potter to have the ear of someone in France's Wizengamot. I never even learned their first names! She just kept referring to them as "Lord Beaumont" and "Representative Pettelier". If I'd gotten the chance to ask them about it, I'd wager that our political agendas don't even line up."

Dobby gave him a sad smile and offered him a glass of firewhiskey, fighting to tamp down his excitement.

Saturday afternoon found Ginny ensconced in Hermione's comfiest chair as the brunette paced back and forth in front of her. The woman had just told her about the surprise bouquet and the message that only Harry could have left.

"I just don't understand!" she cried, raking her hands through her tangled mane. "Why wouldn't he just tell me?!"

Ginny wrestled back a smirk. "You know how Harry gets, Hermione. When it comes to facing evil people he can do it without batting an eye. But facing his emotions? He's more likely to shove them into a dark corner and never face the possibility of rejection. Hell, when we very briefly dated, I was the one who had to make all the moves! Harry is the bravest person I know, but, when it comes to love, he's a coward.

Hermione ceased her pacing. "You're right, Gin. I'm going to have to be the one to confront him. And I don't know how much longer I can leave this in limbo. I've been trying to deny that I'm in love with him for years, and I don't want waste anymore time. Yes, I think we should have a different kind of chat at lunch this Friday. We could come back here…"

As Hermione resumed her pacing and began planning aloud, a delivery owl came to the window. Hermione quickly relieved it of the heavy-looking box gave it an owl treat before it took off again. She examined the brown paper wrappings and, finding no return address, carefully opened the package. Her jaw dropped, and with a shaking hand she pulled out a 100th anniversary edition of "Hogwarts: A History". She shrieked with joy and began carefully thumbing through the fragile book.

Ginny felt Hermione was distracted enough to finally release her smug smile. Yes, this plan might actually work...

Harry cursed himself for giving up yet another perfectly good Monday night for one of Ginny's "sure thing" dates. Romilda Vane's hero worship of him had been the final straw. Harry had tried valiantly to make conversation, but after two drinks, he bluntly told his fellow former Gryffindor that this simply wasn't going to work and apparated back home.

Harry kicked back in his recliner as Dobby brought tea and biscuits for both of them. "What have I done to deserve this, Dobby?" Harry asked mournfully.

"Dobby has told Master Harry again and again that he doesn't. If he would just be the brave man Dobby knows he is and ask Miss Mione for a date…"

Harry rolled his eyes at hearing that advice from his friend yet again, but this time he really stopped to think about it. As he'd told Hermione on Friday, they knew each other better than anyone else. He knew Hermione loved and appreciated him as Harry, not Lord Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, or one of the wealthiest men in Britain. She was kind, smart, and gorgeous to boot. Harry had recognized long ago that he was attracted to his best friend, but he'd always been too afraid of ending their friendship to act on his feelings. But now, he finally found himself willing to try to win Hermione's heart and offer his own in return.

"Dobby, I think you may be right," he sighed. Finishing his mug, Harry fled to his office to work on his plans for wooing Hermione. Dobby bounded to the floo to call a certain redhead.

On Wednesday morning, Hermione found yet another bouquet of red tulips on her desk, and this time it contained Shakespeare's Sonnet 116- her absolute favorite, and, in her opinion, the most romantic of the sonnets.

On Thursday morning, Hermione got yet another owl delivery. The package contained every century edition of "Hogwarts: A History"- ten full volumes! The note requested her presence at Grimmauld Place the following day for lunch. Hermione wiped away the tears, but she secretly wondered why Harry had bothered to send all ten when he'd already given her the first one. Shrugging it off, she began to really look forward to tomorrow.

Harry paced nervously back and forth in front of the fireplace Hermione would floo through. Dobby waited patiently to the side, doing his best to look serene instead of ecstatic.

Before she could speak, Harry placed a shushing finger to her lips and led her to a small dining room. Hermione teared up at the sight of red tulips everywhere, her favorite shepherd's pie in the center of the table, and Al Green- her favorite artist- playing through an old gramophone.

Before she could start asking him questions, Harry gently led her to the table. "Let's have a nice meal first, eh Mione?" he murmured, pulling her chair out from her.

They had a lovely meal, courtesy of Dobby, and Hermione made it all the way through her favorite chocolate cake before she started in on him again.

"Harry, we need to talk," she said firmly, bracing herself for a difficult conversation.

"Mione, I'll let you say whatever you'd like, but there's something I need to get off my chest." Harry took a fortifying breath, closed his eyes, and whispered, "I think I love you." Not hearing Hermione rising to run away, Harry met her eyes. "I think I have been for a long time, but I've been afraid to tell you. And I don't know if you feel the same way, but I think we could be really good together. The past few days, I've tried to send you little presents to show you how well I know you- better than anyone else, Mione. But what I love most about you is that you never try to make me into anyone other than Harry, the man who hates doing dishes and never remembers to get his haircut on time. Mione, I love you, and I want to be with you."

Hermione left his final sentence hanging for half a moment before launching herself at him. "Harry, I knew it had to be you! I love you too- I think I have for a long time as well."

Harry was thrilled, but his heart dropped when Hermione pulled out of the embrace frowning. "Second thoughts?" he mumbled.

"No, silly. I'm just trying to reason out why you would send me two bouquets of flowers and then a full set of HAH century editions after sending just the first one," she said, sounding puzzled.

It was Harry's turn to be confused- until he caught Dobby blushing out of the corner of his eye.

Before Harry could get his question out, Dobby blurted, "Missy Wheezy and Dobby sended them! We is trying to get you two stubborn fools together, and yous needed a good push!" he declared.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other for a moment. "Sounds just like Ginny!" they said in unison, and all three laughed. The new couple invited everyone they loved to dinner that night to celebrate their new relationship and the help of meddling friends.

Written for The Houses Competition

Slytherin, Year 4 Short

[First Line] prompt: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.


End file.
